


I Keep Telling Myself I'm Not The Desperate Type

by thinkhappythxughts



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Peterick, Peterick Fluff, fluff ending, kinda triggering for depressing thoughts maybe??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4494738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkhappythxughts/pseuds/thinkhappythxughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete gets back from tour and finds the lack of activity sending his brain to bad places, and he knows one guy who is always willing to be there for him when he gets like this, despite the fact that it's freaking 4am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Keep Telling Myself I'm Not The Desperate Type

Pete paced up and down the length of his bedroom, his face set and hands fiddling nervously.  
All he could think about was how pathetic his behaviour was, staring at the same two walls at 3am. Outside of that thought was a buzz of activity dark enough that Pete didn't want to venture into what it might contain. He knew how that venture usually ended.  
For the past 4 months, he'd been touring, spending his nights living the dream on stage, existing for the audience as that far-off, distant to all but his bandmates on stage. Only on this tour, he'd been particularly close to one member. But for now, he tried to push those thoughts away - to no avail.  
Pete sank down to his bed, slumping in defeat and exhaustion, but knowing that leaving his mind to wander while trying to sleep could have no positive results in this state. For what felt like several hours he just stared at the floor in a haze of emotionless confusion: until finally he remembered one of the last things Patrick said to him before they parted and went back to the supposed comfort of their own beds.  
Hating himself for the idea of being a burden and overreacting, he picked up his phone and scrolled to Patrick's number in his contacts. After staring at the ten digits for a final moment of consideration, he pressed in the number, holding the phone up to his ear in one hand while keeping the other pressed against his eyes.  
After a few seconds of Patrick not picking up, Pete was about to end the call, reprimanding himself for even thinking of Patrick picking up. It was 4am, he would be passed out and pissed at him for trying to wake him up; what was he thinking?  
As Pete's finger moved to terminate the call, Patrick picked up.  
"Hello?' Patrick half-whispered, his voice clearly tired from the tour and the fact that he'd only been conscious a few seconds.  
Pete sighed, considering what to say. "Hey 'Trick, I um... I'm so sorry for calling in the middle of the fucking night, I just... before you left you said that I had to call if stuff starts getting bad again, and I just didn't know what else to do, but I knew you'd be asleep and-" Pete knew he was starting to ramble and stumble on his words, but his coherency always suffered along with him at times like this. Sensing how lost Pete was for an explanation, he cut him off.  
"Pete, listen, can you wait like five minutes for me to get to your place? I get the feeling you're way better talking about this in person." Patrick offered, no hint of annoyance in his voice despite what Pete thought was a ridiculous request.  
"No, you really don't have to do that, I'm just overreacting-"  
"Pete. I'm coming over. Unlock your door for me, will you?"  
Pete pulled the phone away from his ear to see that Patrick had ended the call. Despite his guilt, Pete couldn't help but smile over his friend's total care for his wellbeing and selflessness.  
Five minutes later, as promised precisely Pete heard the front door to his apartment open and close, followed by footsteps leading to his room. Patrick appeared at his door wearing old jeans and a random oversized tshirt that was leftover merch from the tour that had just ended. Clearly Patrick had just grabbed the first things he saw to head over to Pete's.  
Patrick smiled cautiously at Pete as he walked over to Pete, who was sitting on the side of the bed, trying to gauge exactly how bad Pete was. He'd dealt with Pete's episodes before but they ranged in how bad they were and it was always best to know exactly how bad Pete was to know how to help. Pete smiled back, but it was a smile that his eyes didn't share.  
Patrick sat down next to Pete and put his arms around him, and immediately Pete leaned into Patrick's shoulder, and for a moment they simply stayed like that. Pete broke the silence.  
"I'm sorry." he whispered.  
"Hey," Patrick pulled away so he could look Pete in the eyes. "Don't you ever apologise. I promised you that I'd be there any time you needed me, and clearly this is one of those times. I signed up for this," he chuckled, and when he thought he saw a hint of guilt in Pete's eyes from that last comment, he got more serious 'And it's no problem. I'd be way more pissed if you ever needed me and didn't say so just because you thought I'd care about not getting ten hours of sleep per night."  
"I know," Pete replied, looking at the ground. "I just... you know how it goes, my brain likes to fuck with me, convince me at every turn that I'm a burden, I'm a bother, et cetera, et cetera..."  
"You could never be that to me. That's how this goes, we deal with each other's shit no matter what. You wanna talk about it?" Patrick asked, knowing the invitation was sometimes all it took to get Pete's bad thoughts off his mind.  
"I... I think it must just be a post-concert thing. Living on the road that long and having so much to immediately look forward to with shows and parties just kinda contrasts a hell of a lot with the nothingness of being back. Don't get me wrong, I love that we just get to chill when we get back, but without the schedule and drive... your mind just kinda wanders to reason for getting up, you know?"  
Patrick knew very well what Pete meant, and also knew exactly what it led to a while back when things had gotten really bad. The idea of these thoughts coming back to Pete terrified Patrick, but for his friend's sake, he kept calm.  
"I know." Patrick looked into Pete's eyes, seeing how much calmer he was already just from knowing he was being understood. Pete was clearly done with talking about it, as he leaned back into Patrick's shoulder, burying his face in his shoulder while Patrick leaned his head onto Pete's.  
Pete pulled back, looking once more at Patrick, their faces closer than before. Pete leaned into Patrick, closing the distance between them by pulling Patrick into a soft kiss. Memories of nights on the tour like this one flooded out the darkness in Pete's mind, and though this was the first time this had happened after the tour, it was exactly the same.  
Patrick considered the implications of this action outside of the tour. He had never thought this new relationship with Pete was only for the tour, but he worried about how it would continue afterwards; but his concerns were quieted here, the simplicity of just he and Pete together.  
After what seemed like an eternity, Patrick pulled away, with a needy Pete trying to lean back into the kiss.  
"Would you feel better if I stayed here tonight?" Patrick suggested.  
"Bur you didn't bring any of your stuff, you probably have stuff to do tomorrow that I'm interrupting-" Pete's worries about being a burden once again manifested in his rambling.  
"Pete, seriously, it's no problem." Patrick smiled, knowing that Pete was only making excuses for Patrick's sake.  
Pete smiled and nodded, before leaning back in for another kiss, this one more fervent than the last.  
"Come on," Patrick eventually insisted. "You really should get some sleep."  
The couple climbed beneath the sheets and cuddled up together, Pete's head leaning into Patrick's chest.  
"Hey Patrick?" Pete mumbled sleepily after a while.  
"Yeah?"  
"Love you."  
"Love you too." Smiled Patrick, already feeling Pete's breathing reach a slowed pattern indicating he was asleep, and before long, his own followed.


End file.
